


In Thrall

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Come Eating, Compulsion, Consensual Mind Control, Established Relationship, Facials, Felching, Human Shiro (Voltron), M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Top Keith (Voltron), Trust Kink, Vampire Keith (Voltron), Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 18:11:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20262352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: With his voice a low growl, Keith whispers, “The moment you want to break free, you will. I have no power over you.”It’s his customary command. The words snap through the thrall, embedding in Shiro’s mind. Shiro’s only response is to smile up at Keith. He lets Keith’s vampiric compulsion swim through his body, leaving him sleepy and relaxed in a way only a thrall can. He has nothing to fear. He’s safe.But his boyfriend is wrong: Keith has all the power in the world over him, a power Shiro’s always given to Keith freely.Or: Shiro suggests that Keith use his vampiric mind control powers during sex.





	In Thrall

**Author's Note:**

> So I got a fic request for vampire Keith foreverrrrrrrr ago (I think back in February) and finally had a moment to sit down and write it. 
> 
> To clarify on some of the tags above: borrowing fast and loose with lots of different vampire canons, but Keith's using a glamor/thrall/compulsion on Shiro (a power that vampires have over humans) in which Shiro would follow any of Keith's commands. Using it during sex is Shiro's idea and they're both into the idea (and Keith provides Shiro an avenue to escape the mind control if he wishes). I believe I've tagged this appropriately but if there's anything that I should add to avoid squicking anyone, please do let me know.

Keith blinks at Shiro with the slow, cat-like intensity Shiro’s come to expect from their feedings. Shiro loves watching the change come over Keith, how his pretty eyes can suddenly swirl with a supernatural power, spiraling with magic as he summons his thrall. Shiro can feel the pinpricks of it in his mind now, like little strands of silk brushing over his very thoughts. 

Shiro feels himself relax inch by inch. He stares into Keith’s eyes, unable and unwilling to look away as the thrall slinks through his mind. Keith’s hands slide down his naked chest, soothing him. 

With his voice a low growl, Keith whispers, “The moment you want to break free, you will. I have no power over you.” 

It’s his customary command. The words snap through the thrall, embedding in Shiro’s mind. Shiro’s only response is to smile up at Keith. He lets Keith’s vampiric compulsion swim through his body, leaving him sleepy and relaxed in a way only a thrall can. He has nothing to fear. He’s safe. 

But his boyfriend is wrong: Keith has all the power in the world over him, a power Shiro’s always given to Keith freely. 

Shiro knows what the thrall would feel like for anyone else— that loss of power, of being caught by a vampire on the hunt. A terrified mind in an unresponsive body, unable to break free from an unwilling compulsion. 

With Keith, though, Shiro knows he’s in no danger. Keith’s continued insistence on dragging Shiro down into a thrall before drinking is a simple precaution. A relaxed body is easier to drink from, and if Shiro’s compelled to stay still, he won’t shudder at the first pierce of fangs. 

“You have nothing to fear,” Keith says, voice silky and smooth, supernatural in his quiet, lilting words. His voice is magic itself. If Shiro had any skittering thoughts, Keith’s compulsion would soothe him. “You’re perfectly relaxed.” 

Commanded, Shiro melts into the couch. Keith maintains the intense eye contact, keeping the thrall skimming Shiro’s mind in little tendrils of magic. 

Once satisfied that the thrall’s complete, Keith curls his fingers around Shiro’s wrist and lifts his arm up, one thumb pressed to his pulse point and his other hand cradling Shiro’s elbow. 

Keith leans forward and curls his mouth around one of Shiro’s fingers. It’s a tease more than anything else, and Shiro doesn’t flinch when Keith’s fang pricks the skin. His tongue laps in shallow, tentative swipes as he drinks down the little beads of blood that well up. 

It’s barely a taste— Shiro made a joke once about it being the equivalent of stealing a fry off someone else’s plate— but it always seems to relax Keith. He sucks on Shiro’s finger absently, just tasting him. When he sets Shiro’s arm back down again, it’s only so he can slump full-bodied into Shiro’s chest. They both lounge like that on the couch, cuddling. 

Keith nuzzles at his neck. “Fuck,” he sighs, “You really do taste good.” 

“That’s because I’m your comfort food, sweetheart,” Shiro declares, teasing, and kisses the top of Keith’s head, feeling floaty and sweet. 

_Sweetheart._ Shiro’s still not used to calling Keith that, just as he still isn’t used to so many things about their relationship. He’s not used to holding Keith as close as he wants, to kiss him whenever he wants. After years of steady friendship, everything with Keith feels new. 

The feeding is new, too. For the longest time, Keith outright refused to drink from Shiro, preferring to thrall strangers off the street, drink just enough from them to satisfy his hunger, and compelling them to forget the incident ever happened. For months he insisted he didn’t want to hurt Shiro, shying away whenever it was offered. 

Now, though, Shiro likes this much more— likes the closeness it affords him, likes to know that the lightheaded feeling after having blood drawn is for Keith’s sake. That Keith trusts him with this. 

He noses into Keith’s hair, inhaling, and asks, “Relaxed, baby?” 

“Hmm,” Keith hums, lounging against him. He presses a kiss to Shiro’s pulse-point and draws away from his neck, resting his cheek on his chest instead. He listens to Shiro’s heartbeat. 

“Well… _I’m_ relaxed,” Shiro mumbles. He doesn’t feel drunk, necessarily, but Keith’s thrall is a similar feeling. 

Feeling floaty and boneless beneath Keith, Shiro floats in the thrall. Everything feels soft at the edges. He never feels so good as when Keith’s compelling him. Shiro wonders, idly to himself, if there’s anything that could make him feel better than this. 

And then, of course, the answer occurs to him. Unbidden, Shiro speaks the thought aloud: “You should fuck me when I’m like this.” 

“What?” Keith asks, head lifting up. “In the thrall?” 

“Sure,” Shiro says, and now that he’s said it, it feels like the perfect thing to do. He manages to lift his arms and wrap them around Keith, hugging him close. “Bet I taste even better after sex.” 

Keith snorts. “You taste the same, regardless. And we’ve already _had _sex.” 

And that much is true— Keith tends to feed after fucking Shiro if only because sex leaves Shiro sleepy and calm. It helps the thrall take hold faster, apparently. 

“Maybe,” Shiro says, squirming. He’s still slick and open from earlier, unconcerned with cleaning himself off. He likes the feeling of Keith’s come inside him and Keith even laid out a towel so he wouldn’t have to get off the couch before he was ready. Because Keith is a gentleman. “But I wasn’t in a thrall then,” Shiro argues, keying his fingers down Keith’s spine, thumbing at each bump. “Now you could compel me to… I don’t know, only say your name or to only come after you tell me to. That kind of thing.” 

The more he explains it, the more he wants it. 

Keith frowns, thoughtfully, and lifts himself up off Shiro’s chest. He stares at him, his eyes so dark and intense, searching for a sign that Shiro doesn’t mean it. 

Shiro smiles up at Keith, dreamily. “You can make me tell the truth right now, if you wanted. I’d tell you the same thing.” 

Keith’s hand lifts, petting his fingers over Shiro’s face. It’s a gentle touch, Keith’s fingertips skating along his jaw. Shiro tilts his head, pressing into Keith’s palm. Taking the hint, Keith cups his cheek, thumb sweeping across his cheekbone.

He looks thoughtful, considering Shiro’s words. “Shiro,” Keith murmurs. “Tell me what you want.” 

The command isn’t accompanied by a pull on the thrall— it’s just Keith asking Shiro and trusting him to give him the answer. The fact that he asks proves he’s considering the idea, waiting for Shiro’s command.

Shiro can’t stop smiling up at him, hands reaching down to cup Keith’s ass and drag him closer. Shiro shifts his hips, slotting their bodies together. Neither of them is hard yet, but Shiro starts wriggling his hips to give Keith that friction and knows it’s only a matter of time. 

“I want you to fuck me, baby,” Shiro answers. 

He feels all fuzzy at the edges in the best way, like he’s just woken up from a long nap, still a bit groggy and lazy. He squeezes Keith, fingers slotting into the cleft of his ass, teasing. Keith sucks in a sharp breath. 

“And?” Keith prompts.

“And,” Shiro whispers, licking his lips, “I want you to control me. Tell me what to do.” 

Keith considers, his thumb tracing over Shiro’s cheek. Shiro turns his head, slowly, and presses a kiss to Keith’s palm. 

“… If you’re not too hungry to wait a little bit longer,” Shiro adds, smiling up at him sweetly. 

Finally, that draws Keith’s smile— something small and sweet. “Anything you want, Shiro. Anything.” 

He leans down to kiss Shiro. Shiro sighs happily and kisses him back, keeping it slow and luxurious, lazy but still heated. Keith’s hand shifts down to cup Shiro’s chin, licking into his mouth. He drags his teeth— pinprick sharp— over Shiro’s bottom lip and sucks on his tongue with just a hint of bite. 

By the time Keith draws back, Shiro’s panting. It’s a strange combination of excitement and the thrall’s inherent sleepiness battling inside him. The tendrilled magic of the thrall makes him blink up at Keith lazily. 

“Get hard,” Keith tells him and Shiro can feel the compulsion coil up his mind, twisting the command through his body. Shiro sucks in a sharp breath as his body responds, as he rocks up— already prompted by the shifts of their hips, by Keith’s kiss— and feels his cock start to harden. 

Keith kisses him again, sucking Shiro’s tongue into his mouth, lips soft against his. Shiro groans happily, rocking his hips up to rut against Keith’s belly. His cock’s hard and he can feel Keith responding, getting hard again in turn. 

Shiro gives a pleased cry when Keith breaks the kiss and drops his fingers down to slip inside of Shiro. It’s so easy. He’s already loose and open from earlier and the keen that Keith pulls from his throat is blissful. He opens his eyes to beam up at Keith and finds Keith smiling back, something so soft in his expression. 

“Baby,” Shiro murmurs. “Keith.” 

Keith kisses him again, just a light peck. “You’ll listen to my voice,” Keith whispers, voice impossibly soft but the thrall unforgiving as it seizes around Shiro. “But the first command remains— when you want to break free, you will.”

Shiro nods, dragging his hands up Keith’s back and rocking down against Keith’s fingers. “I don’t want to be free. I want to be yours.”

Keith’s smile is indulgent, just a little dark at the edges. He spreads his fingers inside Shiro just to prompt a whimper. 

“You won’t come until I tell you to,” Keith says. Shiro nods again, whining. Keith’s smile gentles, twisting his fingers inside of Shiro. “Shiro,” he whispers. “Any time you feel good, say my name.” 

“_Keith,_” Shiro says, immediately, and then can’t help but laugh. 

Keith joins him, laughing softly. Then he blushes, ducking his head to nuzzle at Shiro’s neck.

He fingers Shiro open, more teasing than anything else. Shiro hardly needs to be stretched, still ready for him. It feels good, though, focusing on that pull of Keith’s fingers inside him.

“Keith,” he says again, and Keith kisses him silent. 

“You’re going to give me an ego if you keep saying my name,” Keith teases when he pulls back, pressing his forehead to Shiro’s. Shiro holds his gaze, smiling up at him, sleepy and in love. 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers. He’s going to say his name until his throat goes raw with the sound of it.

Keith grins. “Okay, okay, stop. You don’t have to do that anymore.” 

Shiro feels that one tendril of the thrall curl away, but it doesn’t matter. He loops his arms around Keith’s neck and nuzzles his nose to his. “Keith,” he whispers. “I love you so much.” 

Keith makes a soft choking sound, as if the words have taken him by surprise. There’s no reason why it should— it’s hardly the first time they’ve said as much. 

“I love you, too,” Keith answers, because of course he does. 

Even just a year ago, Shiro never would have guessed he’d be like this today. He never would have let himself think he’d ever be sprawled out on a couch, Keith’s weight pressing him down. He never would have hoped that after years of being in love with his best friend, he’d get to hold him like this. 

Keith’s always had power over him, figuratively and, now, literally. 

“Please fuck me,” Shiro murmurs as he kisses Keith.

And Keith, of course, obeys him. He withdraws his fingers from inside Shiro and cups the backs of his thighs. He lifts Shiro’s hips up and positions his cock against him. With a swift slide of his hips, he seats himself fully inside Shiro, so quick and sure that all Shiro can do is cry out, back arching. 

Shiro loops his legs around Keith’s hips, heels pressing against his back and coaxing him in even closer. He feels full. He loves that feeling, even more so when Keith pushes him down, his graceful body belying that hidden vampiric strength as he sets a steady pace.

Keith starts fucking him in slow, sweet bursts. Shiro knows Keith could fuck him harder if he wanted to, but he knows that Keith likes to take his time with Shiro, likes to be gentle. He likes the way it builds, the way he can drag Shiro so close to the edge and make him teeter there, never fully falling. 

And now, Shiro won’t be able to come until Keith compels it. Keith curls his hand around Shiro’s cock and gives a little tug, timing it to meet a thrust of his hips. Keith draws out just enough to stroke back in again, burying deep inside Shiro. 

“Keith,” Shiro groans, clinging to him. He squirms closer, shoving his face against Keith’s neck, panting, his teeth dragging over his skin. 

“Who’s the vampire here, you or me?” Keith teases as Shiro nibbles at his neck. 

Shiro can’t help his answering giggle. He presses a kiss to Keith’s neck and then bites down, playfully. His teeth are blunt, not designed to pierce through Keith’s skin, but the tease of it is enough to make a rumble of laughter push up Keith’s chest. Shiro feels it in Keith’s throat, that gravelly vibration where his mouth presses to Keith’s adam’s apple. 

But the truth is, between the two of them, Shiro almost _was_ the vampire. A dark, stormy October night, walking home from a long graveyard shift at his seedy job, Shiro’d been attacked by a vampire— a creature he didn’t even know really existed until that night. He would have been drained of blood, killed, and then transformed if not for Keith, who’d driven up on his bike to take Shiro home, as he did every work night. Keith’s protectiveness of Shiro always made him blind to danger— he dove in to protect Shiro from an assailant and suffered the bite in Shiro’s place. 

That had been even before they’d gotten together. Shiro’s never going to stop wanting to protect Keith in turn, to be with him for as long as possible. It’s why it matters so much to him now, that Keith will trust him enough to drink from him.

Keith strokes Shiro’s cock in a pace just on the edge of brutal, knowing that it’s the quickest way to make Shiro come apart under normal circumstances. He can’t fall over that edge now and so he shudders beneath Keith: the hand on his cock is blissful and the cock inside him is torture.

“Keith,” he whimpers, nuzzling helplessly at Keith’s shoulder. “Keith, baby—” 

Keith pulls back, making sure their eyes meet when he whispers, “Shiro. Relax.” 

The tendrils of the thrall curl around him and take hold instantly. Shiro’s entire body goes boneless in compelled relaxation, slumping beneath Keith. His legs uncurl from around Keith’s hips, falling open. Like that, Keith fucks into him and it’s an easy slide. Shiro can’t even tighten his body around him, can’t even try to coax or tease Keith in turn. He lets out a low moan, eyes half-lidded, unable to do anything but receive Keith into his body. 

“Good?” Keith asks. Shiro can barely manage the answering nod. 

Keith smiles, and whispers, “Good boy.” 

He palms Shiro’s chest, pushing his weight down on him as he ruts into him, abandoning the gentle pace and aiming for overwhelming instead. Shiro’s gulping down breath in little hups of air, the couch rocking against the floor. Shiro feels each thrust in every inch of his body. 

Keith’s fingers curl against his chest, nails biting against his skin. He fucks into Shiro and Shiro is open to him, sated and warm. He groans, unable even to arch his back to meet him. He feels so relaxed, so pliant and safe. It feels good and he feels the pleasure ripple through every part of his body. 

As the pace increases, almost bruising, Shiro knows Keith’s close to coming. He can see it in his face— how dark his eyes are, the sweat at his brow. He squeezes his hand around Shiro’s cock and then focuses just on thrusting into him. 

Keith’s always had excellent stamina, even before the transformation. Shiro blinks up at Keith, moaning out as Keith thrusts into him, and imagines what it’d be like for Keith to just keep fucking him like this, filling him for hours and hours. Again and again, Shiro compelled to just lie there and take it. Keith could use him and Shiro would happily accept it.

Shiro groans, knowing that if he weren’t in a thrall, he’d be coming in Keith’s hand by now. He can feel it inside him, a stunted orgasm. It’s a strange, near-blissful feeling, simmering on the edge of too much and not enough. He feels overfull. 

“Keith,” he moans. 

Shiro feels the moment Keith comes, the way it ripples down his body, the way he stills above Shiro, buried deep inside him. He feels Keith’s come fill him for the second time that day. As Keith rocks into him, Shiro milks him dry. When Keith’s finished, he slumps down against Shiro, chest to chest. 

This time, Keith’s the one to find Shiro’s neck. He nuzzles and mouths absently. There’s no prick of teeth, just Keith’s huffing breath against the column of his throat. Shiro moans weakly, managing with some effort to turn his head and nose into Keith’s hair. He inhales, relaxing further just from the smell of Keith after sex. 

“Good?” Shiro slurs. 

“I should be asking you that.” 

“I’m perfect,” Shiro sighs. “Can you let me hug you?” 

Keith grunts and lifts his head. “Hug me, Shiro.” 

The command of relaxation lifts from the thrall and Shiro immediately wraps his arms around Keith. He nuzzles into Keith’s hair, hugging him tight and letting out a blissful, relieved sigh. 

“Shiro…” Keith murmurs. He draws out of the hug and then pulls out of Shiro, pressing an apologetic kiss to his throat as he does so. 

Shiro gives a weak cry of protest all the same. He feels some of Keith’s come slip out with the movement, and Shiro mourns its loss. 

“Shh,” Keith soothes, although no command follows. He strokes his hands down Shiro’s sides, gentle and reassuring. “Let me take care of you.” 

It works to gentle Shiro. “Keith,” he whispers, tenderly, “you always do.” 

Keith smiles and then wriggles his way down Shiro’s body. He shoulders Shiro’s legs open to settle comfortably between them. His hand returns to Shiro’s cock, although it provides no relief, and his other hand grips his thigh. 

“You’re so good, baby,” Shiro murmurs, reverently, hands falling to tangle up in Keith’s hair as he presses a kiss to Shiro’s thigh. 

Keith’s expression turns playful when he glances up at him, his mouth a sinful curve. And then he leans in, pressing a sucking kiss against Shiro’s hole, puffy and sensitive from Keith’s earlier attentions. 

Shiro gives a delighted gasp that tapers off into a moan. Keith starts kissing and licking at his hole, sucking out the come as it leaks from him. He licks inside him, taking his time and moaning appreciatively. The sounds he makes are obscene, enthusiastic and blissful as he eats Shiro out. 

Meanwhile, Shiro can’t help the moans that punch out of him. He feels like he’s going to burst, squirming and rocking his hips down, riding Keith’s tongue as he slides inside him, curling and licking along his rim. It borders on oversensitivity. Shiro trembles, shuddering and curling his fingers tight in Keith’s hair. 

“Keith,” Shiro whines, hips rolling down. 

Shiro can practically feel Keith’s smug smile where it’s pressed up against his skin. He can do nothing but tremble against Keith’s tongue, luxuriating in the soft pillow of his lips. 

Keith draws away with one final lick only once Shiro’s cleaned out entirely. He moves up enough to lap at Shiro’s balls, mouthing at each one before moving on, licking at the base of Shiro’s cock. His hand returns, too, curling gently and sweeping down from head to root. 

Shiro gives a weak moan, body plucked of all ability to come, but the desire molten in his belly. He tugs pathetically on Keith’s hair but that only makes Keith smile wider, his eyes bright and enthralling when he glances up at Shiro. 

“Relax,” he says again, teasing, and Shiro’s helpless to stop it. He slumps, the breath rushing out of him as the thrall lances down his body. His hands fall to his side. His legs flop wider. 

“Keith… _Keith,_” Shiro whimpers, “Baby… please—” 

“Shhh,” Keith soothes, mouthing at Shiro’s cock. It’s blissful torture and Shiro gives an appreciative groan as Keith smoothes his lips up the length of him. He suckles at the cockhead, tongue curling, only to pull back with a lazy smile. “You’re so good, Shiro. You’re so good…” 

And Shiro’s always been weak to Keith’s praise. He’d arch against it if he could. He’d come if he could. Keith strokes him in light, teasing little pulls of his hand, the circle of his fist barely enough friction. 

Keith nuzzles at his hip, mouthing along the jut of bone and then working his way up. He mouths at Shiro’s belly button and then turns his head back down again, kissing the tip of Shiro’s cock as he strokes him. 

“Good?” Keith asks. 

“Mm,” is all Shiro can manage. He’s Keith’s entirely. Keith can do whatever he wants with him. 

Shiro watches Keith grin up at him, teeth pointed and eyes dark, and Shiro can only feel a thrill knowing that he’s utterly at Keith’s mercy— that Keith’s only ever going to take care of him. 

Keith sucks Shiro down, swallowing around him. Shiro’s the one on the edge of pleasure but Keith looks just as far gone. His eyes are half-lidded, blissed out as he sucks and kisses at Shiro’s cock. It fills his mouth, his lips red and stretched around Shiro’s girth. He eases his mouth down, mindless of his hair falling in his face as he bobs over Shiro’s cock. 

Shiro groans, wishing he could thrust into Keith’s mouth, wishing he could fist his fingers in his hair. It always drives him wild to see the way Keith swallows him down, how easily he takes him. 

“Keith,” he keens. “Keith, please.” 

“What?” Keith asks, drawing off Shiro’s cock, voice raspy with the littlest curl of a growl. 

“Let me come,” Shiro begs, body trembling. 

Keith’s eyes are smoldering, bright and heated. The color spirals, a nebulous sea, and he whispers through the thrall, “You can come whenever you’re ready.” 

He looks just as fucked-out as Shiro feels, face flushed, lips red and swollen, eyes dark. 

With one kittenish lick from Keith, Shiro comes on his face. Keith’s eyes fall shut as come hits his cheeks, his nose, his lips, even his forehead in thin, shiny ropes. Shiro shudders through it, panting. Keith tips forward and takes Shiro’s cockhead in his mouth, suckling him through the last dredges of his orgasm, face slick with his come. 

He looks beautiful like this. Shiro knows he _always_ finds Keith beautiful. But, like this, brain fuzzed out by orgasm, Shiro thinks that he’s never going to get over Keith in any circumstance, thinks he’s never going to get used to opening his eyes and finding Keith there. He wants to be with him forever. 

They’ve never talked about it but Shiro knows that, someday, Keith will turn him. Shiro’s not in any rush. He _knows_ that he’s going to be with Keith forever. 

He knows that’s what Keith wants, too. Knows that the reason Keith dove into danger that night he became a vampire was because a world without Shiro was an unacceptable one, one too empty and too lonely. 

And Shiro knows it’s the same for him, too. That he’ll never want to exist without Keith by his side.

For now, though, Shiro comes down from his release. He stares down at Keith with a soft sigh as Keith pops his mouth off Shiro’s cock.

Keith lets out a sound akin to a growl, turning to mouth at Shiro’s hip. Shiro’s legs tremble, shaken from orgasm and Keith’s eyes train on his thighs, watchful. His hand turns gentle on Shiro’s cock, stroking him just on the edge of too much. Shiro tries to breathe and Keith turns his eyes up towards him, watching the bob of Shiro’s throat. 

“You smell good,” Keith growls and Shiro knows that tone— the way Keith gets when he’s about to eat. Shiro wonders how he managed to miss just how hungry Keith was before this, if he’s already this growly. His eyes are dark, watching Shiro like he’s prey. 

“You can drink,” Shiro whispers. He laughs, then, looking at the come on Keith’s lips. “Ha… But I guess you’re like a come vampire right now.” 

Keith did drink a lot from him. Shiro thinks it’s a funny joke, but Keith’s too pulled by the song of Shiro’s blood to laugh. Keith’s eyes smolder up at him.

Shiro breathes and says, quieter, “You can drink, Keith.” 

Keith looks up at him as if Shiro’s words are their own thrall. He stares, deep and dark and longing, and Shiro whispers the words a third time. 

Keith’s teeth are glinting things, needle-sharp and precise. He turns his head, mouth pressing to Shiro’s thigh. 

And then the teeth sink in, as if commanded by Shiro alone. Keith’s mouth latches onto his skin and starts sucking, tongue laving over the two puncture marks. Keith’s grip is tight, lifting Shiro’s thigh, nails biting into his sensitive skin. 

Usually, there’s a pinch in the bite and Shiro knows that if he weren’t in a thrall, he’d have yelped or shuddered at least. But Keith’s always taking care of him, even in hunger. He squeezes and strokes Shiro’s thigh. 

Keith usually drinks from Shiro’s wrist or the crook of his elbow— two places easy enough to hide. Despite teasing, he never does more than nip at Shiro’s neck. (“You really don’t want me to pierce this,” he’d told Shiro once, thumbing at Shiro’s carotid artery, eyes dark as Shiro’s neck flexed beneath his touch.) 

Keith stares up at Shiro as he drinks, mouth pressed to his thigh, his eyes half-lidded in a quiet delight as he drinks. He looks just as blissed out as he did when he came. Shiro groans, weakly, watching the flash of Keith’s tongue as it presses against his skin, his lips shiny with Shiro’s come and flecks of his blood. 

Despite himself, he feels his cock give a weak twitch, watching Keith drink. Keith’s mouth tilts just a little at the corner, hinting a smile. 

Keith doesn’t say the words, but Shiro feels the thrall twist through his mind. A voice whispers in his head— Keith’s voice, deeper and gravellier— telling him to touch his hair. The compulsion pulses through Shiro’s body. 

Shiro obeys. He twists his fingers tight in Keith’s hair and cradles the back of his head, keeping him pressed close as Keith drinks. 

When Keith’s finally taken his fill, he pulls off the mark on Shiro’s thigh with a few short licks. He stares at it for a moment, licking away any blood that beads up, lingering there until he’s sure it’s clotted. 

Then, sweetly, he presses a kiss first to the bite mark, then Shiro’s hip, then his belly. Shiro lets him move, fingers tight in his hair. 

And then Keith lifts, crawling up the length of Shiro’s body until they’re eye to eye. Keith says nothing, just staring at him, and Shiro feels that inner voice again, a silent command he couldn’t disobey even if he wanted to: he tips his chin up and catches Keith’s mouth, kissing him desperately. 

Keith gives a pleased moan and kisses him back, licking into Shiro’s mouth. He sucks on Shiro’s tongue like it’s his cock and Shiro can’t help the weak little groan, keening and desperate. They swap breath, lips soft against each other’s, Keith’s teeth hinting a bite that never comes. 

Shiro’s not ashamed that he turns his mouth, just a little, and licks a streak of his come off Keith’s cheek. Keith gives a weak, pleased groan and lets him do that, kissing him sloppily even as Shiro tries to clean him off. 

When Keith finally draws away, he pets Shiro’s face and then turns. He plucks his shirt off the ground and delicately wipes his face, cleaning himself off from what Shiro’s tongue couldn’t reach. 

His hands go to Shiro again, cupping his face. He presses a sweet kiss first to Shiro’s forehead, then the tip of his nose, and then finally slots his mouth to his. They swap lazy kisses like that and Shiro feels that same sensation of total bliss, total relaxation. He knows Keith’s coaxing it from him and welcomes it, knowing he’s safe in Keith’s hands. 

“You’re free,” Keith whispers against Shiro’s mouth and Shiro feels the thrall lift.

Keith knows better than to yank it away without preamble, leaving Shiro barren of thought. The vampiric compulsion leaves Shiro in waves, but it doesn’t matter— even without it, he feels blissed out and happy. He kisses Keith, smiling. 

“Baby,” he murmurs, worshipful. 

Keith nips his bottom lip and then draws away, his eyes dark but his usual purple, no swirling, spiraling magic in sight. 

“Was that okay?” 

Shiro grins up at him. “The thrall didn’t break, did it? That’s your answer.” 

Keith laughs, softly, and shakes his head. He looks fond as he gazes down at Shiro. And then, he flops down, cuddling up to Shiro’s chest. 

“I’m going to want to do that again,” Shiro announces. He pets his fingers along Keith’s skin. Tentatively, he asks, “Will you?” 

“Yeah,” Keith murmurs, sounding both relieved and satisfied. Then he snorts, turning his nose to press into the spot between Shiro’s pecs, cuddling up close but looking embarrassed. “Did you fucking call me a come vampire?”

“It’s funny,” Shiro insists. Keith must hold back his laugh only to deny Shiro the satisfaction, Shiro figures.

Keith nuzzles his chest. “I’m such a cliché.” 

“What do you mean?” Shiro hums, feeling blissed out from sex and a little lightheaded from blood loss. He keeps his arm curled tight around Keith, fingertips tracing little patterns over his shoulder. 

“Drinking blood during sex like I’m in some kind of harlequin romance,” Keith mutters, eyes closed, cheek resting on the spot just above Shiro’s heart, listening to its steady beat. 

Shiro hums again. “I’m not complaining.” 

“It’s like if you were to pull out a salad while I was sucking you off,” Keith mutters, nose wrinkling. “It’s weird.” 

“I _really_ didn’t mind,” Shiro assures him. “Just meant you were letting go of your inhibitions, right?” 

He knows how much Keith has to hold himself back sometimes. Becoming a vampire came with the stamina, but also the strength. Shiro’s strong, but he thinks that Keith worries about hurting him more than he lets on. 

“And look! I’m fine. Ironically kind of hungry, though.” 

Keith peeks his eyes open, squinting up at him. 

Shiro laughs at his expression, hand drifting off Keith’s shoulder to tangle in his hair instead. “Hey, you mentioned the salad.” 

Keith huffs out a quiet _hmph_ and then lifts enough to reach Shiro’s mouth, kissing him gently. His kiss doesn’t turn biting, even though Shiro opens his mouth, ready to be teased. Keith keeps the kiss a tender press instead. When Keith draws away, his eyes are softer than before. 

“I’ll go get you some water,” Keith says, kissing him one last time and lifting himself off the couch. Shiro lounges, feeling lazy, and Keith returns soon enough with a huge glass of water and a bag of raisins. 

“This is the weirdest blood donation I’ve ever been to,” Shiro jokes, taking the raisins even though he hates raisins. Keith knows it, too, so it’s clearly revenge for the come vampire comment. 

Keith scoffs and straddles Shiro’s hips. He cups the back of Shiro’s head, coaxing him upright enough to drink the water. Keith sits there, watching him eat the raisins next, wriggling his hips down against Shiro’s soft cock. 

“Are you alright?” Keith asks. 

“I’m fine, baby. You don’t have to fuss,” Shiro assures him as he stomachs his way through the raisins. If he doesn’t think about it, it’s fine. He reaches out, stroking Keith’s hip with his hand. “I feel good.” 

Keith relaxes and squirms close again, kissing Shiro’s cheek. 

“Are you still hungry?” Shiro asks. 

“I’m fine,” Keith assures him, nuzzling at his jaw. He’s like this after sex and feeding both, cuddly and sweet. Shiro turns his head and kisses Keith’s jaw in turn, snuggling up to him. 

“That was fun,” Shiro tells him. He squirms a little beneath Keith. “I really want to do that again.” 

“You’re insatiable,” Keith says but hardly sounds like he’s complaining. “Eat your raisins.” 

Shiro pouts, eating the raisins. 

“If you finish them all,” Keith says, sweetly, “I’ll fuck you again.” 

Shiro nearly chokes on said raisins, but he’s also never eaten something so quickly in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
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